Jun by M.
Originally published in Belgravia (John Maxwell) vol.2 #8 (Jun 1867).
The Dinner at Richmond
I.
Across the marble balustrade
In thoughtful mood my Lady bends,
While through the shadowy purple glade
His way the rosy river wends.
O Lady sweet, O Lady mine,
Those eyes that do like Hesper shine,
Say, are they lit by Love or Wine?
II.
Within, the drowsy elders prose,
Or solemn sip Lafitte's Bordeaux;
While worn-out matrons slyly doze,
Preferring Morpheus to Margaux.
But I should like to know, ma belle,
If those sweet eyes I love so well
Owe all their brightness to Moselle.
III.
Titania's self might shameless sip
The drops my love so shyly tasted;
The dancing bubbles kissed her lip,
But half the sparkling wine was wasted.
O dearest Lady in the land,
One thing I fain would understand,
Why trembled so that soft white hand?
IV.
The menu printed on white satin,
And perfumed by the fam'd Rimmel,
I've safely kept, concealed my hat in;
Yet what our banquet was, to tell,
Where grew the fruits, where bloomed the vine,
Whose juice made that ambrosial wine,
Would tax this memory of mine.
V.
I only know that you and I
Sat whispering softly side by side;
While conscious waiters passed us by,
Or only came to be denied.
But when that Charlotte Plombières
You looked on with such absent stare,
Where had your fancies fled, Love, where?
VI.
O sweet one, in the days to come,
When these Hyperean locks are thinner,
Safe in the haven of a home
May we recall that Richmond dinner!
And while we talk of auld lang syne,
I'll tranquil sit and sip my wine,
With your dear hand clasp'd close in mine.